Storm Tossed
by Moonlit Dreaming
Summary: Jack has a plan, and he's sticking to it, for better or worse. But he probably should have checked the weather forecast... Jack x Ann, FoMT. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon's not mine, of course, etc etc.

**Note: **Aah, Jack x Ann... the first HM pairing I truly fan-girled over! But enough nostalgia, I just found this on my computer and all it needed was quick touch up and for me to write the ending so I thought why not post it. Well, enjoy and please leave a review if you can!

Storm Tossed

Jack Taylor was a man with a plan – a man for whom nothing could go wrong. He knew this because even the weather was reflecting his wonderful mood. Jack wasn't used to this feeling. His life was more often filled with drudgery and the occasional disaster. He spent his days haggling over turnip prices and making hideously boring purchases at the supermarket – things like flour and cooking oil. Falling into the 'disasters' category was the time he had returned home after an evening at the Inn – where there had been much wine and a drinking contest with Karen – and decided to milk the cows. Unfortunately he mistook a horse for a cow and received a sharp kick in the face from his horse, Magic. He found the hoof-shaped bruise that resulted quite hard to explain away.

Since he had been Ann, though, things were looking up. Oh, yes. Life was all just... _wonderful._

Jack wandered past the Inn, the summer sun beating down on the back of his already tanned neck. Ann was stood outside, sweeping the entrance. She looked up at him as he passed. She smiled, but didn't stop sweeping. Even in the midst of a heat wave, Ann hadn't tanned. She was just more freckled than usual and the end of her nose was pink and peeling.

He carried on walking, in step with his dog, Charlie, who was trotting along at his heels. He glanced back at Ann, but she wasn't looking at him. She was still sweeping, her long, red braid swinging with every stroke.

Suddenly, Jack felt sick.

She was really extraordinarily beautiful.

* * *

"Ann. Ann. Ann. _Ann._ _Ann!_"

Ann threw down her dishcloth. "_What?_ What is it, Karen?"

It was barely nine o'clock and Karen, who was sat at the bar, had just polished off her second bottle of wine. Ann, meanwhile, was across the room serving a green salad to Manna. Manna started to rise up out of her seat to gawp openly at Karen; she made a very effective meerkat, Ann thought – albeit one with a rather severe bob cut. Ann gently, but firmly pushed her back into her chair.

"Is she going to be okay?" Manna persisted.

"Yes, of _course_ she is, Manna," Ann said, untroubled. "You don't come here often, do you?"

"Not of an evening, no. But as you well know, Ann, I'm a lunch time regular here. I merely came in tonight to keep an eye on Duke." Ann glanced about the room, noting a distinct _lack_ of Manna's husband, Duke. "But the very _second_ I told him I'd be joining him here tonight he flew into an almighty huff. So childish. And then he refused to come with me! I think he went off to re-arrange his sock drawer. If he thought I wouldn't go alone, he was much mistaken. No, I can have just as much fun as the next person – "

Ann had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "You're really 'partying hard' with that green salad, Manna."

"Ahem. 'Partying hard' as you put it, Ann, is surely vastly overrated... " She was eyeing Karen with disapproval.

"ANN," Karen finally screamed.

"Alright! I've got to go, Manna," said Ann. "Don't worry about, Karen. She'll be fine – as long as she shuts her mouth."

Karen beckoned Ann over so vigorously that she almost fell off her bar-stool. "Another beer over here, Ann," Gotz called.

"Sure thing!"

Ann hurried back behind the bar. She began filling a tankard for Gotz and then leant across to Karen. "What is it?"

To her surprise, Karen winked. And when she spoke, she sounded suddenly completely coherent. It was a bit scary. "Jack was in the supermarket earlier," she said cryptically.

"So?"

"Karen," Rick began to say, "didn't Jack _specifically _ask you to keep this quiet?" He shot her a warning look over his glasses.

She waved him away dismissively. "This is a matter of the _heart,_ Ricky."

"Oh?" Ann scoffed. She picked up Gotz's foaming tankard.

Karen looked furious that no one was taking her seriously. "He bought a Blue Feather!" she blurted out.

The tankard slipped out of Ann's hand. She held her breath – it bounced instead of shattering. Beer, however, fizzed everywhere, soaking her trainers. Karen peered sheepishly over the bar. "Oops," she hiccupped. "Sorry. Probably shouldn't have sprung that on you... Sorry, future-Mrs Taylor?" She giggled deviously.

Ann just moaned and started mopping up the mess. "Mrs Taylor!" she said weakly. "No, no... I can't. Look, I'm shaking! Look at that! Does anyone else feel clammy? I'm starting to feel really clammy."

"Look what you've done now, Karen!" she vaguely heard Rick say. "Poor girl! Poor, Jack – he'll be crushed."

Ann leapt up, clutching the tankard so tightly it was in danger of cracking. She was sure her face was tomato red and her hair was spiralling out of its tight braid. Karen and Rick stared at her as though she was mad, confirming this. "I never said I'd say no, Rick," she said shakily. "I might even say yes."

Wow. 'Yes.' Could she really do it? Could she really say it? She somehow couldn't imagine Jack in a suit and tie – and herself in a_ dress,_ of all things! It was unthinkable. Picturing the pair of them decked out in all their finery in front of a packed church gave her the giggles. She knew Jack would be the same. He was, above all else, the best friend she'd ever had...

"Ann?" Karen, who now seemed unnaturally sober, looked worried. "What are you gonna say? Yes?"

But Ann shrugged her off. She swept off to Gotz with a fresh tankard. "I'll think about it," she said.

* * *

There was a flaw in the plan. Isn't there always?

Maybe it was fate.

No, he had to be positive. Ann always was. And she scoffed at the idea of fate and destiny.

Jack watched in utter misery as grey sheets of rain battered his poor farm. His old apple tree looked more horizontal than vertical. He knew how it felt: downtrodden, defeated, having the worst day of its life.

He was soaked; his denim overalls were dripping all over the rough wood floor. He'd hurried the animals back inside. Poor things were terrified. One of the cows – Maisie, who was pregnant with her first calf – trampled his foot in her panic. Jack limped across to the kitchen. He hoped the stress wouldn't induce premature labour. It took a full moment for him to realise that he had walked into the kitchen for no apparent reason. But kitchens equalled Ann, and so perhaps he was drawn to them.

The whole situation reeked of irony. He had lied to Ann and told her he was too busy to hang out at the Inn with her tonight.

He meant to surprise her: burst in unexpectedly, do the whole grand gesture thing. Now he was stuck inside with only static blaring out of the television and – He stopped, horrified.

And _where the hell _was Charlie?

* * *

At the tenth unanswered ring, the answer machine kicked in. Ann sighed, twisting the telephone cord round and round her finger.

"_Hey. Jack, here. I'm probably off milking a cow or something, so leave a message." _

There was a _beep,_ and then Ann plunged in.

"Jack, you idiot! Where are you? It's Ann. If you're looking for Charlie, don't worry 'cause he's at the Inn with me. And by the way, if you _are_ off milking a cow right now you're mad." She paused almost angrily. "Where the _hell_ are you?"

She slammed down the receiver, furious with him for not being where he should be. After a moment, though, Ann realised that she might have come off as a little rude and dialled the number she knew off by heart once again.

"Jack. I'm sorry. Hope you're okay." Another pause, this one heavy and thoughtful. "Bye!"

Hmm. She stared at the phone as if hoping it would advise her. Was that last message _too_ soppy?

Ann punched in the familiar number and mouthed along with Jack's answer phone message. _Beeeeep. _

"Jack, you really are insanely irritating. I don't know why we're even dating to be honest." Ooh, was that too harsh, though? What if he was stranded somewhere, hurt and helpless, and when he finally staggered back home the first thing he heard was an insulting message from his oh-so-beloved girlfriend? The thought of this pricked Ann's conscience, until she blurted out, "Forget that last bit, actually. Lost my mind a little. Love you."

She hung up the phone for the third time that night. There was no point in denying it: that last message in particular had made her look utterly insane. Ann was absently stroking Charlie's ears; he had fallen asleep with his head in her lap. "What do you think I should do, Charlie?" she asked. Charlie let out a snore. "You're useless." Ann sat in turmoil for ten minutes, before her hand inched towards the phone once more.

Then she jumped, and so did Charlie who promptly started howling. Ann elbowed him to be quiet. The phone_ was ringing_.

"This is new," she muttered, snatching up the receiver. "Jack?"

"Ann?"

She slumped against her bedside cabinet, relieved. Wind was rushing and whirling against the Inn walls; it seemed to be rushing within her head as well. But her joy at hearing Jack's voice quickly dissolved.

" – Ann, I don't mean to be rude, but you've left me some pretty insane messages. I don't want to be too harsh – for all I know, you've developed a horrific mental illness in the hours since I last saw you – "

Ann's anger swelled like the storm outside. "How _dare_ you, Jack Taylor! How dare you twist my words, my concern – "

Jack could barely speak through fits of laughter. "Trust me, Ann," he said, "listen back to those messages and you'll agree that no twisting was required."

She fell silent, unable to deny that, but bubbling with rage nonetheless. "You scared me, you know," she admitted. "Not answering the phone in a storm. Where were you?"

Jack swallowed audibly. "Well, I was looking for Charlie, wasn't I? Where did you find him?"

"Outside the Inn. He was drenched – looked like an overgrown rat. He must have run off."

"Oh, right. Well thanks..." They lapsed into silence, except for the howls of the wind and the pressing rain. Ann's mind had become hopelessly blank – except for Blue Feathers. She thought for one mad, out-of-body moment of bringing up the subject. But that was crazy: you didn't discuss your own proposal. Anyway, Karen might have been wrong.

"How long do you think the storm will last?" she asked.

She could imagine Jack shrugging. "No idea. I can't get any sort of TV signal. I haven't seen the forecast."

"Oh!" Ann raised her eyebrows. They didn't even have a TV at the Inn. "I assumed you had, you know, farmer's intuition or something when it came to the weather."

Jack collapsed into a second bout of laughter that sounded crackly and distant. From what seemed like a long way away, Ann heard "I wish!" before _click – _there was a ringing in her ears that told her the line was dead. It took her a moment to realise she was still holding the receiver to her ear. She put it back slowly, for what felt like the millionth time that evening and fell back onto her pillows. Charlie, beside her, was snoring loud enough to rival the storm outside.

So the phone lines were down... Not exactly surprising.

So she would have to go without talking to Jack Taylor?

Big deal.

* * *

Jack was still awake, but not because of the storm – though it _did _sound like his roof might cave in at any moment. He had dried off since his pointless search for Charlie and was now sat at the kitchen table, turning the Blue Feather over in his hands. Maybe it was his soppy imagination, but he thought it looked rather impressive in the candlelight.

No, it wasn't the storm keeping him awake, but the what-if conversations rumbling through his head and the sense of loss that ached in his stomach. Call him melodramatic if you wanted – it _felt_ like a loss.

The way Jack saw it, this evening had diverged into two timelines. In the first, he was at the Inn and he'd _done_ it. He and Ann were engaged, at last, deliriously, and it was all wonderful. The night was one big congratulations, drinks flowing, Doug clapping him on the back, proclaiming him the perfect son-in-law. Then there was this miserable version of events in which he was sat alone in the farmhouse rueing a plan gone awry – without even his dog for company, for Goddess sake!

He dropped the feather onto the table and rubbed his face in his hands. _Damn._

Thing was, today was the day. _The_ day. He decided it ages ago, marked it down on the calendar in pencil and now... it was gone. And he hadn't done it. It had taken all of his courage to pick one day, such was his fear that Ann would turn around and reject him. Or just say nothing, leaving a hideous silence that said everything. Either way, he'd pinned all his courage on just one day and he didn't think he could go through it all again.

Slowly, Jack got to his feet, blew out the candle and ambled off to bed. Though his body was exhausted, his mind continued to whirl and he spent the night staring at the wall, wide awake.

* * *

The next day at noon Ann set off to take Charlie home. Mineral Town was silent and deserted in the wake of the storm. Only the frequent puddles dotting the path gave any indication as to what had happened the night before. By the time they reached Jack's farm, Charlie was soaked having trotted through all of them. "Oh, Charlie!" Ann sighed, but he simply barked at her and galloped down the lane to meet his owner.

Ann followed at a distinctly more hesitant pace. After what Karen had told her, her desire to see Jack rocketed between enthusiasm and dread.

But before she could decide which she truly felt, she had rounded the corner and there he was, stood outside the farmhouse ruffling Charlie's ears. "Hey," she called.

Jack jolted. He straightened up, looking as tentative as she felt. "Oh, hey," he murmured. "Thanks for bringing Charlie back."

"No problem!" She wandered over to him, arms folded. "He snores like an engine. Glad to hand him back, to be honest."

"That's nothing," Jack said. "He also eats my socks." For a moment they both just stared at Charlie, who was digging up the lawn, as if he was the solution to all their problems.

Ann looked out across the fields. They were still damp in the wake of the storm and glittered in the weak sunlight. She gasped. "Jack! The apple tree! What happened?"

Of course, it was obvious what had happened. The tree had been battered by the wind and its roots torn up. It now lay forlornly on the wet grass.

Jack shook his head. "I know," he muttered. "That tree was there when I moved in."

"Yeah. You used to bring me free apples." Ann shot him a wicked grin. "But only so I could make you those apple pies, remember?"

Jack ducked his head sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. They were the best apple pies in Mineral Town, though." He lapsed into silence, his eyes focused on the space where his tree had been. "Oh well. That's all over now."

"Hey!" Ann reached out and rubbed his shoulder. "It's not the end of the world, Jack. We can plant another tree."

His swung around as if her touch or her words had given him an electric shock. "We?" he repeated.

"What?"

"You said 'we' – as in you and me. Right?"

"Oh – I – " Ann's face was tingling. The same clamminess she experienced after her conversation with Karen had attacked again. "I just meant – I don't know! I meant, I'd help you plant it, I guess."

"Right." He fidgeted, avoiding her eyes. "It's just... I thought – Karen didn't, uh, let anything slip, did she?"

Ann sucked in a deep breath. The farm and the cloud strewn sky wavered a bit. "Kind of?" she admitted.

"Damn! I knew I couldn't trust her to stay quiet." Jack shook his head and started to rifle through the pockets of his overalls.

"What are you doing?" Ann asked. He looked like a madman.

"_This!"_ He pulled out the Blue Feather, and without waiting for a response, pressed it into her hand.

They could probably both agree that it looked distinctly ordinary in daylight. "And this is for me?" Ann said faintly, just so she was certain.

"_Course_ it is." It was his turn to squeeze her shoulder. "Don't be silly. Sorry, though. This is kind of rubbish, isn't it? I had something so much better in mind."

Truthfully, Ann didn't think it was rubbish at all. "You know I think I prefer it this way. This way," she said, easing into a smile at last, "this way, it's just us." She wrapped her arms around Jack's waist. "Just us. Oh, and _him_, that is." They both turned to Charlie who still busily digging up the once neatly mown lawn.

Jack laughed. "I know you haven't actually said it yet, but are we moving towards a 'yes'?"

"Hmm," Ann murmured, tapping her chin as if in deep thought, "well, why not? I really would like to get the apple tree re-planted. And I could have all the free apples I wanted if I lived here."

"Oh, you can be so cruel," Jack said, kissing her nonetheless. "Speaking of mean, shall we go listen to those answer phone messages you left on my machine last night?"

"Oh Goddess."

This was better than any grand gesture. This was personal: storms, phone calls and runaway dogs. Mad, yes, but very_ very_ them.


End file.
